


One Way Trigger

by starbursts_and_kisses



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, F/M, Fluff, craziness, overprotective siblings for the win
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 06:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbursts_and_kisses/pseuds/starbursts_and_kisses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Arya plans an elaborate heist, Hot Pie kidnaps the wrong Targaryen, and Gendry is just along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Way Trigger

It all started the day Arya found Sansa sharpening knives in the kitchen. Her hands were sticky with what appeared to be blood but what was actually tomato sauce, and there was a deranged look on her face that looked completely at odds with the frilly Hello Kitty apron she was wearing. Arya had never seen her sister look so scary. If Sansa wanted to channel her inner Hannibal Lecter, that was fine with her. She just didn’t want to be around to witness it. 

“Hey Sansa, what are you doing? Are you… are you okay?” 

Her sister jumped up in alarm at the sound of her voice, her expression instantly shifting from mania to mortification, as though she had just been caught doing something illegal, and the knives she had been holding clattered uselessly on the marble counter. Arya stared, transfixed, as a tiny drop of blood welled up from the point where one of the knives cut her sister’s palm. She made a move as though to come closer, but Sansa flinched, warded her off with her arms, and shot her a glare that could have frozen winter itself. 

“I’m fine, Arya,” Sansa said scathingly in a tone that suggested that she was far from all right. “Just leave me alone.” 

But the sudden motion from Sansa had drawn attention to her arms, and Arya gasped as she noticed a huge ugly bruise marring her sister’s otherwise perfect skin. “Jesus Christ, Sansa, what happened to your arm?” she cried out in horror. 

“Nothing. It’s nothing,” Sansa told her shrilly, desperately tugging the sleeves of her sweater down to try to cover up the bruise. “Someone accidentally hit me with a lacrosse stick at gym class earlier. I know it looks ghastly, but it doesn’t really hurt that much.” 

The strangled sound that escaped her lips as Arya’s hand clamped down on her arm like a vise betrayed her. “Lacrosse stick my ass,” Arya snarled, her face stony and her eyes wild with unsuppressed anger. “Who the fuck did this to you?” 

“No one. I _told_ you, it was an accident – ” 

“I can always tell when you’re lying to me, Sansa. Now don’t make me ask again. _Who did this to you?”_

“Viserys.” The moment she said the words, it was like a dam broke. Sansa threw herself into her sister’s arms and promptly burst into tears, her whole body shaking like a leaf, and the sound that came out of her throat was so inhuman it almost gave Arya goose bumps. She wrapped her arms around Sansa’s shoulders and waited until her sobs subsided, her head filled with thoughts of violence and murder. 

“Viserys, as is Viserys Targaryen?” Arya exclaimed the moment Sansa had calmed down. “What on earth were you doing with Viserys Targaryen of all people?”

“I… We were… Oh, Arya, I was so stupid…” 

She listened as Sansa told her all about how she had been seeing Viserys Targaryen in secret. She talked about meeting him last summer at one of Arianne Martell’s infamous parties, where they flirted and danced all night. Since then, they’d been seeing each other secretly, partly because Viserys wanted to protect Sansa from prying eyes and partly because Sansa – silly little Sansa with her Taylor Swift songs and dreamy notions of happily ever afters - was thrilled at the prospect of a romance with a celebrity. But several weeks into their relationship, things began to take a sour turn. Viserys became increasingly possessive and paranoid, and yesterday when he saw her talking to Willas Tyrell in a coffee shop, he got so mad he hit her and started calling her names. Sansa broke up with him soon after that, and she had not seen him since. 

 _I will have blood for this,_ Arya vowed to herself, her nails digging painfully and leaving crescent-shaped marks on her palms _. I will carve Viserys Targaryen’s chest with a kitchen knife and serve his heart to my sister on a silver platter. Nobody messes with a Stark and gets away with it._

Sansa saw the look on her face and panicked. “Arya, you can’t tell anyone about this,” she pleaded, gripping her arms tightly and looking at her anxiously in the eye. “If Robb or any of the others find out, they will destroy him. _Please._ I don’t want them to know that I… that I was weak and that I allowed this to happen to myself. Please, Arya, I can’t bear it.” 

“You are not weak, Sansa,” Arya told her fiercely. “This whole thing with Viserys is fucked up, but this does not make you weak. Don’t you dare think it.” 

“Arya, _please_. Swear on your life that you won’t say a word to anyone about this. Not to Mom, not to Dad, and certainly not to our brothers. Please, I need you to promise me.” Arya could count on one hand the number of times that Sansa had begged her to do something for her. Hearing her plead so openly now made her feel strange. But she understood what Sansa meant when she said that she didn’t want to appear weak in front of others. Arya often felt that way too. 

“Alright, fine. I promise I won’t say anything,” Arya finally relented. _But it doesn’t mean I’m not going to do something._

Sansa breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” she murmured as she hugged her once again. “Viserys and I are done, I swear. No amount of begging will make me come back to him.” 

_And no amount of begging on his part will stop me from torturing him. Viserys Targaryen, I am coming for you._

The moment Arya left the kitchen, all sharp objects safely hidden away from her sister’s reach, she made a phone call. 

“Hey Gendry,” she said. “Is Hot Pie with you? I need a favor.” 

 

* * *

 

“You want us to _WHAT_?”

“Arya, have you gone insane? You’re asking _us_ to help you kidnap Viserys Targaryen?” 

Arya rolled her eyes and leaned her head back against Gendry’s narrow, four-poster bed. Across from her, Hot Pie was staring at her with his mouth wide open, his flabby arms frozen in the act of shoving a huge cinnamon roll down his gullet. It was a wonder he didn’t choke himself to death. Even Gendry, who was usually more reasonable and less prone to dramatic fits than Hot Pie, was looking at her incredulously, as though she was some sort of endangered wild animal that he couldn’t quite believe he had befriended. 

“You guys are overreacting,” she told them. “It’s not like I plan on holding him hostage for the rest of my life. I just want to teach him a lesson, that’s all.” 

Gendry Baratheon shook his head, locks of untamed black hair falling haphazardly to his eyes. “He’s a _Targaryen,_ Arya. A public figure. In case you haven’t noticed.” 

“Oh, c’mon. There’s a reason social media calls him the Beggar King, you know. Trust me, if we get rid of him, the world will thank us. We’d probably win the Nobel Peace Prize or something.” 

“Arya, you can’t kidnap people just because they annoy you,” Gendry said exasperatedly. 

“Did I mention the fact that he physically abused my sister? My only living sister, Gendry! What, am I supposed to do nothing about that?” Arya snapped, her voice taking on a sharp edge as she was reminded once again of what Viserys did to Sansa. 

“Yes, but you do know that there are other ways of dealing with this, right? Ways that aren’t liable to get us thrown in jail?”

Hot Pie whimpered at his words. “Jail?” he cried out, his bottom lip quivering rather unattractively. “I can’t go to jail, Arya. Do you know what they do to fat boys like me in prison? Do you? Do you?” 

Arya sighed. “No one’s going to jail, Hot Pie.” 

“They give prisoners meal rations, Arya. Meal rations!” Hot Pie insisted, ignoring her previous comment, and if Arya wasn’t so intent on convincing them about her plan, she might even have laughed. Trust Hot Pie to break down at the thought of abstaining from a life of In-N-Out burgers and eat-all-you-can fast food. 

“We won’t get caught,” Arya stated firmly. 

“How do you know? Oh wait, that’s right. We were there for the ‘How to Successfully Kidnap Your Sister’s Ex-Boyfriend 101’ class last semester. Of course things will work out beautifully. Of course.” 

Arya rolled her eyes again. “Sarcasm does not suit you, Gendry,” she chided him as she crossed her hands over her chest and glared at him. “I told you, we can do this. As long as we stick to the plan, we’ll be fine.” 

Gendry rested his chin on the swivel chair he’d been straddling, his face taking on that strained, constipated look that said that he was probably thinking too much. After a moment of quiet deliberation, his eyes turned to her. “What’s the plan?” he finally asked in a tortured voice, as though he was being held at gunpoint. 

Arya grinned. Finally. About fucking time her best friends saw the light. She glanced at Gendry’s closed bedroom door to assure herself that his pesky stepsiblings weren’t there to eavesdrop in on their conversation, and then whispered, “Four days from now, Viserys Targaryen is going to the Blackfyre club. You know the one, it’s that seedy place downtown owned by one of his prostitute ex-girlfriends –” 

“Wait, how sure are you that he’ll be there?” 

She shrugged. “Pretty sure. I checked his Twitter account. The jerk’s a narcissist. You’d be surprised by the amount of personal information he chooses to share online,” she replied. “Anyway, as I was saying, four days from now, we’ll find him there. I’ll go in first, distract the guards, and disable all the security cameras –” 

“You can do that?” Hot Pie asked her wonderingly. 

Arya glared at the interruption. “Of course I do. My ex-boyfriend was a CIA agent, stupid.” 

“What ex-boyfriend? You’re too young to have an ex-boyfriend!” Gendry exclaimed in a perfect imitation of Catelyn Stark’s affronted voice. 

“Oh, shut up. His name’s Jaqen, and he used to live two houses down across the street from us. You’ve seen him a couple of times before, I’m sure.” 

“That Nabokov dude? Goddamn it, I knew he had a thing for you!” Gendry looked about ready to explode. 

“I can’t believe he’s a secret agent,” Hot Pie said in astonishment. “But yeah, now that I think about it, there was definitely something sketchy about that guy. He used to scare the crap out of me.” 

“You’ve been seeing that perv secretly last year? Shit, Arya. You should have told us about him.” 

Arya sent Gendry an irritable look. “What, so you can have my brothers beat him up? No thanks,” she muttered. “Anyway, back to the plan…While I’m taking care of security, Hot Pie will sneak in using the back entrance – I’ll take a look at the club blueprints later – and hide in the bathroom and wait for Viserys to show up. I mean, he must take a piss at some point, right? So then Hot Pie, you’ll take care of any stray witnesses, knock Viserys unconscious, and carry him outside, where Gendry will be waiting with the getaway vehicle.” 

“Why do _I_ get to do the difficult part? Out of the three of us, I have the highest chance of getting caught,” Hot Pie whined. “Can I be the driver instead?” 

Arya suppressed a shudder and traded horrified glances with Gendry. “You’re kidding, right? Hot Pie, the last time we trusted you to drive us home, you almost got arrested for drunk driving. And the sad part was you weren’t even drunk.” 

“Hey, I wasn’t _that_ bad!” 

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” Arya muttered under her breath. 

Gendry frowned. “I don’t know, Arya… This doesn’t sound like a good plan to me. There are too many things that could go wrong,” he thought out loud. 

“Well, _sorry._ This is the best thing I could come up with in such short notice. Strategy planning isn’t exactly my thing.” 

“Why don’t you ask your brothers, then? Jon is, like, your partner-in-crime. Robb’s a brilliant strategist, Bran’s an omniscient god trapped in a boy’s body, and Rickon... Don’t even get me started on Rickon. Anyway, my point is, any one of them could help you.” 

“I told you, I can’t tell them about this,” Arya said impatiently. “I swore to Sansa that I wouldn’t. You, on the other hand… She never said anything about not telling you guys.” 

“And since when do you listen to what Sansa tells you?” 

“Uh, since someone fucking used her as a punching bag? Besides, this is different!” 

Gendry exhaled heavily through his nose. “Right,” he mumbled as he wearily rubbed his neck. “I’m still not convinced this is gonna work, though.” 

“ _The man who fears losing has already lost_ ,” Arya quoted, remembering something her martial arts mentor used to say. “Don’t be such a chicken. This’ll work out fine, trust me.” 

“The last time you told me that, things didn’t go so well,” Gendry said in an accusing tone. “Remember what you did to my stepbrother Joffrey? When he cheated on your sister with her best friend Margaery, you and Rickon stole Tommen’s cat, Ser Pounce, and trained him to attack Joff on sight. _Then_ you put large doses of rat poison in his beer and he almost died. God, I think I still have nightmares about that day.” 

“Gendry, don’t forget the Sandor thing,” Hot Pie reminded him. 

“Oh, yes, the Sandor thing. How can I forget the Sandor thing,” Gendry went on, wincing at the memory of what happened that night. “You and your brothers almost burned Sandor Clegane’s house down when he broke up with your sister. Jesus, what is it with you Starks? I thought you were from a nice family.”

Arya shrugged. It wasn’t her fault Sansa was a magnet for psychopaths. Her sister was a smart girl, but when it came to guys, she could be such an idiot sometimes. Or maybe she was just unlucky. But either way, it didn’t matter because in the end, all the men in Sansa’s life got exactly what they deserved. Arya always made sure of that.

 

* * *

 

One glance at the digital clock on Gendry’s dashboard showed that it was already past 7 in the evening. Outside, the sky had already darkened, turning the world into an eerie playground of shadows and half-lights, and aside from the occasional music drifting from the club entrance every time someone opened the door, the entire street was quiet. Too quiet. 

The Blackfyre club was located on the shabby end of the neighborhood, and judging by its cracked black-and-red walls and malfunctioning LED lights, it didn’t seem like it was a popular destination for locals. Even the bouncer manning the entrance looked so bored he barely reacted when Arya, looking decidedly underage even in her sophisticated leather jacket and combat boots, came sauntering in, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. 

The interior of the club was much nicer than the outside, although not by far, and since it was Friday night, Arya saw that the place was relatively packed with people, which was a good thing because it would make it easier for her not to attract unwanted attention. She expertly weaved her way through the crowd, and for a second, she saw a glimpse of Viserys Targaryen’s cruelly twisted features as he angrily talked to someone, but before she could see who it was, the press of bodies shifted and she was forced to move along. 

Everything went smoothly after that. The place was so run-down and the security so lax that Arya’s mission almost seemed like a joke. It was like sneaking into an old nursing home. _Even my French test last Monday was way more difficult than this,_ Arya told herself, feeling oddly disappointed. 

And now several minutes later, she found herself back in Gendry’s sleek black Jaguar, which technically belonged to his dad Robert, and anxiously waited for Hot Pie to finish his part.

 _Come on, Hot Pie. Hurry up,_ Arya thought furiously, drumming her nails on her thighs and resisting the urge to bite her lip. She didn’t like being this exposed out in the open, even though their car windows were heavily tinted and they were the only ones out there on the street. Gendry was right. This was a stupid plan. There were too many things that could go wrong. Viserys’ bodyguards could wake up any minute, or he could leave just as quickly as he’d arrived. What if Hot Pie got cold feet at the last minute and was now cowering pitifully in the bathroom, waiting for Arya and Gendry to come get him?

Gendry abruptly started in his seat. “Hot Pie’s back,” he told her curtly, handing Arya back her infrared binoculars and instantly shifting the car into reverse. 

The moment they reached the curb, Arya got out of the car and hardly spared Hot Pie a glance. Instead, she stared at the black motionless bundle he was carrying. “Quick, let’s get him inside,” she commanded. Together, she and Hot Pie heaved and shoved Viserys Targaryen’s unconscious form in the back of the car. Then, glancing one last time to make sure that no one had seen them, they raced back inside and joined Gendry. 

It was only when they were already several miles away from the club that Arya finally allowed herself to relax. “Yes! We did it!” she exclaimed, pumping her fists in the air and hooting with delight. 

“Jesus. Remind me never to do this again with you, Arya Stark,” Gendry said as he shakily ran a hand through his hair. He looked so wretched and fraught with nerves that Arya almost felt sorry for him. 

“Don’t worry. No one saw us,” Arya reassured him. “And the important thing is that we got Viserys. Damn, for a moment there you had me worried, Hot Pie.” 

Hot Pie moaned in reply, looking like he was about to throw up. “He…he came in the bathroom without his guards, like you promised. Then when he was about to leave, I sneaked up on him and hit his head with a…with a crowbar. I carried him to the back entrance as quick as I could and I swear, I swear to God, Arya, no one saw me. I almost shit in my pants because I was so sure that someone would see me, but no one did! How come no one did?” 

Arya grinned. “Because I told you I’d take care of it,” she replied. 

“Okay, so now what?” Gendry asked when they finally reached the Stark residence. All the lights in the house were off, which was exactly what Arya had anticipated. It was Friday night, after all. Sansa was at Jeyne Poole’s, the boys were at the bowling alley, and their parents had left for some charity event with Gendry’s parents. Even Osha, their trusted housekeeper, had taken the night off. It really was the perfect night for a kidnapping. 

Arya wasted no time and quickly instructed the boys to smuggle Viserys into the basement. “Don’t be so careful with him,” she told them when she saw Gendry’s hands slip and recover just in time before Viserys’ sack-covered head bumped into the descending stairs. “He’s entitled to a few head injuries, at the least.” 

Gendry shot her a look, his face slicked with sweat. With one final effort, he and Hot Pie dumped their hostage on the carpeted basement floor and paused for a moment to catch their breath. Then Arya herself tied him up using long coils of rope she’d especially bought for the occasion. 

To say that the room was a basement was an understatement. It was large, with plush leather seats, a narrow bookshelf caked with dust, as well as a 50-inch plasma TV hanging in the center of the room. There was even a small adjoining bathroom off to one side. Arya used to call this Robb’s mancave because this was where her brother used to hang out back when he still lived with them. But now that he’d moved in with his fiancée Jeyne, the room had mostly been neglected, which suited Arya’s purposes just fine. And the best part was, the walls here were soundproof. 

“Okay, time to take a look at our Prince Charming,” Arya announced cheerfully as she lifted the sack of cloth from Viserys’ head. When she saw her hostage, though, the smile instantly left her face. 

“Hot Pie…” she whispered, dread coiling deep in her stomach. “This isn’t Viserys Targaryen.” 

Silence. Then someone else spoke. “Shit.”

 

* * *

  

Arya paced back and forth in the basement, her hands in her hair. Beside her, Gendry was in a similar state of distress. “One guy, Hot Pie. I asked you to grab one guy,” she growled, catching her bottom lip with her teeth and gnawing at it mercilessly. “How can you take the wrong person?” 

Her friend looked nearly in tears. “How was I supposed to know?” he wailed, then swept a hand towards their captive. “He has silver hair _and_ violet eyes. I thought he was Viserys!” 

“He looks like a Targaryen, but he obviously isn’t Viserys, stupid!” Arya snapped back. “God, this is so fucked up.” 

“Who is he then?” 

“Who cares who he is? We have to bring him back.” 

“We can’t bring him back. Someone will see and we’ll get arrested!” Hot Pie whimpered, looking more and more like a scared rabbit the longer they argued. “I don’t want to go to jail. I’ll die there within a day!” 

“Shut up, Hot Pie! I told you, no one is going to jail.” 

A distinctly audible groan from behind caught their attention. Arya whipped her head towards the sound, but it was already too late. The man she’d tied up had already opened his eyes. He looked dazed yet coherent, and there was an ugly purplish bruise swelling on his left temple from where Hot Pie had struck him. But his eyes roamed over Arya and her friends, and she was pretty sure that in those few precious seconds when they’d all stood gaping at one another, he already had their faces seared into his brain. He didn’t look like the stupid type to her. 

“Uhh, who are you people? Where am I?” the stranger asked in a raspy voice as he took in his surroundings. He looked around in alarm, and when he noticed the ropes around his torso and legs, his unnaturally colored eyes widened further and he began to struggle frantically against his bonds. “Hey, why am I tied up?” 

Arya cursed, finally snapping out of her daze. She ushered her friends out of the basement as fast as she could, all the while ignoring the man’s enraged yells. Then she closed the door behind her and leaned heavily against it, her pulse racing erratically. “Oh God,” she groaned. 

“Let’s take him back! Please please please, let’s just take him back!” Hot Pie was babbling incessantly now. “Or we can dump his body somewhere on the highway. I don’t care! Anything as long as we can get rid of him.” 

“He saw our faces,” Arya said in a tight voice, pointing out the obvious. “If we let him go now, he’ll go straight to the police and they could come after us.” 

“Shit _,”_ Gendry swore loudly. “We’re completely screwed now, aren’t we?” 

“Maybe we can reason with him,” Hot Pie suggested in a feeble voice. “You know. Like, maybe we can ask him not to tell anyone about us as long as we let him go?” 

“And we’re supposed to just take his word for that? We can’t trust him! It’s too risky.” 

Gendry turned towards Arya, his shoulder muscles tense. “Arya,” he addressed her, his face serious. “Call Jon.”

“ _No!”_ Arya exclaimed, looking horrified. “I can’t. You know I can’t. Besides, he’s still in Eastwatch.” 

“Robb, then. Or Bran. Hell, maybe even Rickon can help.” 

Arya shook her head. “No,” she repeated, gazing at them resolutely. “We can’t involve my brothers. We got ourselves into this mess, so we’ll get ourselves out of it.” 

“Damn it, Arya. Now is not the time to be stubborn,” Gendry argued. “Unless of course you have a better idea?” 

“We can always kill him and dump his body in the river. Corpses can’t talk.” 

“ _Arya!”_

“Fine,” Arya grumbled, her scowl deepening. “Have it your way. We’ll go back downstairs and talk with him. Then we’ll see what happens next.” 

 _At least he doesn’t know our names yet,_ Arya tried hard to reassured herself as they made their way back to the basement. She squared her shoulders. She could do this. She was a Stark and there was no way she was going to let some stupid silver-haired Viserys lookalike outwit her. Never mind the fact that he was just unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Their captive looked freakishly calm when he saw them again, which did not bode well for the three of them. Arya had been right. He did look like the intelligent type. For the last time, she cursed the fact that they got the wrong guy. At least Viserys Targaryen was stupid. This one, on the other hand… 

“So,” the man in her basement said, raising an eyebrow and staring at them calculatingly. “Which one of you is a Stark?” 

Hot Pie gasped and almost fainted. 

Arya forced herself to remain calm and unruffled even though her heart was beating wildly in her chest. “What are you talking about?” 

The stranger’s gaze fell pointedly to the bookshelf, where one section was dedicated entirely to Robb’s collection of basketball trophies and MVP of the year awards. Shit. She was so caught up in thoughts of revenge that she’d completely forgotten about those. She cursed herself for being so careless. 

“Are you Robb Stark?” the stranger asked Gendry appraisingly. 

“No,” Gendry grunted, and Arya thought he was doing a rather good job of not looking panicked.

Hot Pie, on the other hand, did not get the memo to remain calm. He looked at her with fearful eyes and suddenly blurted out, “Arya, what do we do? Are we in trouble now?”

Arya growled menacingly and almost smacked him on the face. _That stupid idiot._ “Damn it, Hot Pie! You’re not supposed to say my name in front of the hostage!” 

“I’m sorry!” Hot Pie wept. “But hey, you said my name too! That’s not fair! Gendry, tell her it isn’t fair!” 

Gendry slapped a hand to his forehead and looked like he wanted to throttle both of them.

The stranger watched them in amusement. “Hello, Arya, Hot Pie, and Gendry. It’s nice to meet you.”

 

 

* * *

  

Arya stared unflinchingly at the man. Up close, he looked even more striking that usual; it was hard to believe that Hot Pie had actually mistaken him for Viserys. For one thing, he appeared younger than Sansa’s ex-boyfriend. And for another, he looked like something that came straight out of the pages of an Abercrombie and Fitch catalogue. But for all his good looks, Arya had no idea who he was. 

“What’s your name?” 

The man laughed. “Are you kidding me?” he exclaimed incredulously. “What kind of kidnapper doesn’t know the name of his hostage?” 

“The kind that won’t hesitate to kill you if you don’t answer the question properly.” 

“Right,” he said, looking sobered by her words. “My name’s Aegon. Aegon Targaryen.” 

“What kind of a name is Aegon?” Hot Pie asked. 

“What kind of a name is Hot Pie?” 

Arya glared at them. “Okay, enough,” she said firmly. “We’re not here to play 21 Questions.” 

“Oh, but I am.” Aegon Targaryen shifted as much as he could in his tied up position at the foot of the couch and turned towards her, flashing her a smile. “Arya, was it? Well, Arya, I just have to ask. If you had no idea who I am, then why did you kidnap me? Are you one of those girls who falls in love with a man at first sight? Because let me tell you right now, there’s no need for this kind of foreplay. I’m perfectly willing to offer myself to you, free of charge –” 

Those were the last words he said before Arya punched him in the face. 

“Ow!” the man cried out, staggering from the force of the blow. A faint trickle of blood leaked out of his nose. “What the hell did you do that for?” 

“Here’s a warning for you, you arrogant jerk. Talk to me like that again and I swear I’ll break your kneecap next,” Arya snarled, the irritation and fury plainly written on her face. 

The silver-haired man winced. “I take it you’re not my fan, then?” 

Arya responded by shooting him a dirty look. 

“ _O_ kaaay,” Aegon said, then cleared his throat. “Why am I here then?” 

There was a second when Arya contemplated not answering him, but eventually she figured that there was no way the situation could get any worse if she told him the  truth. “We weren’t supposed to kidnap you," she told him irritably. "But my friend thought you were Viserys Targaryen."

“What? Are you people blind? I’m much more handsome than my uncle, I’ll have you know!” their captive objected, looking thoroughly insulted. 

“Wait, Viserys Targaryen is your uncle?” Gendry exclaimed disbelievingly. 

Aegon threw back his head and laughed. “Yes. You know, under normal circumstances, I would have paid a million dollars just to see my uncle being held hostage by a bunch of kids. But you got me instead. Oh, the irony,” he said, shaking his head. Arya didn’t know whether he was mad or if he truly found the whole situation hilarious. She suspected it was a bit of both. 

“So this is nothing more than a huge misunderstanding then?” Aegon went on. “Well, how about this. I help you with whatever crazy scheme you want to pull off with my uncle and in return, you let me go. Or we can just forget this whole thing ever happened and we’ll go our own separate merry ways. Sounds good, yes?” 

Arya snorted. “Fat chance, you prick,” she replied and this time she was the one smiling. But it wasn’t a good smile. “Believe me, nothing would make me happier than to rid ourselves of you, but I’m afraid it’s too late for that now. You’ve seen our faces. You know our names. So we can’t let you go.” 

“What? Are you crazy? There’s no way you can keep me here against my will forever!” 

“Oh, watch me.”

 

 

* * *

  

It was too early in the morning for any sane person to be up and about, and Arya, who most definitely was not a morning person, wanted to punch somebody. She’d woken up especially early to smuggle breakfast down to the basement and make sure that her captive had not escaped, but what she learned instead was that Aegon Targaryen was also not a morning person. For someone who was tied up to a chair (Arya had allowed him one trip to the bathroom before she left him alone for the night), he sure was demanding. He’d taken one look at his breakfast plate and immediately started listing all the things he found wrong with it, oblivious to the dark vibes Arya was sending off. 

“I don’t like eggs for breakfast,” he had complained. “And is that bacon? Why is it charred? I can’t eat burned bacon. That’s bad for my health. Oh, and I only drink bottled water. Hey, can you make me blueberry waffles with whipped cream on top? I love those. And maybe some fresh fruits too? Watermelon, but I want the seedless ones, okay?" 

“This isn’t a fucking hotel,” Arya had screamed at him before punching him again in the face and leaving him alone. 

 _Stupid Targaryen,_ Arya thought as she made her way back to the kitchen to brew herself some coffee. She’d only known him for less than a day but he was already getting on her nerves. She liked clobbering him on the face though. It was oddly therapeutic. 

When she wandered off to the living room, steaming mug of coffee in hand, Sansa and her parents were already there. Her sister, who looked like she was well on her way to moving on from her recent traumatic experience, raised an eyebrow at her, surprised that she was already out of bed at this hour. She mumbled a hasty “Good morning” to her parents before sliding down to the couch next to Sansa. 

They were watching the news on TV, and Arya’s eyes flickered towards a dour-looking young anchorman who looked like he was related to Gendry’s stepmom as he blathered on about the rising price of oil in Dorne. He had such a soporific voice that Arya had a hard time following what he was saying, but in the middle of his news report, a picture flashed on the screen and she realized that she was staring at none other than Aegon’s face. 

 _“Senator Rhaegar Targaryen could not be reached for comment, but his spokesperson Jon Connington has issued a statement that confirmed that the senator’s only son had indeed been missing since yesterday,”_ Lancel Lannister was saying. “ _It is still unclear whether Aegon Targaryen, aged twenty, had been abducted by anti-Targaryen factions following the recent approval of the budget bill which Senator Targaryen had initially proposed, but as of six-fifteen this morning the family has announced that they are prepared to pay a sum of one hundred thousand dollars to anyone with any information regarding the missing Targaryen.”_

Arya was so surprised by the news she accidentally spat her coffee on Sansa’s clothes. 

Predictably, her sister's reaction was not pretty. “Eww! Arya, what the hell!” she shrieked, staring in horror at her ruined sweater. “This is cashmere!” 

“Sorry,” Arya mumbled. 

Her father took one look at her and frowned. “Something wrong, Arya? You look shaken,” he observed. 

Arya pushed the panic deep inside her and schooled her features into a mask. “No, Dad, I’m fine,” she reassured him, hoping against hope that he would believe her. It was a good thing Jon wasn’t here to see right through her or else she would be in even bigger trouble. “I was just thinking about something, and I… Would you excuse me for a second? I have to take this call.” 

She left her mug on the coffee table and dashed out of the living room before her parents could ask her any more questions. Once she was safely out of their hearing range, she called Gendry, knowing he’d already be awake at this hour. 

“Did you see the news?” she whispered furiously the moment he picked up. 

“Yes. I was just about to call you,” he told her in a panic. “What the fuck are we gonna do? Please tell me you have a plan.” 

“I don’t.” 

“Okay, we’re screwed.”

 

 

* * *

  

“You never told us you were a senator’s son,” was the first thing Arya said when she came back to the basement sometime after lunch to check on her captive. 

Aegon Targaryen shrugged. “You never asked.” 

Arya narrowed her eyes at that. “What else do I need to know about you?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” Aegon responded, looking at the ceiling for a moment. “I like sailing, I have a parrot named Rhaegal – you should’ve seen the look on my dad’s face when I told him its name – and I have a thing for feisty brunettes. Not you, though. I’m still mad at you for making me eat those eggs for breakfast.” 

Arya wondered if his nose would break if she hit him again for the third time that day. “Considering the situation you’re in right now, you don’t have the right to be mad at me,” she snapped at him. 

“Yes, but it’s your fault I’m here. If you and your friends weren’t stupid enough to grab the wrong guy, I wouldn’t even be here. The least thing you could do for me is to send me home. And maybe if you ask nicely, I might consider not telling the police about you.” 

Arya couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy. She had met her fair share of arrogant jerks in her lifetime, but Aegon Targaryen was on a completely different level. It was like he was constantly begging to be kicked. So Arya indulged him by sucker punching him in the stomach. “This is me asking you nicely.” 

Aegon groaned, his delicate features twisted in pain. “You have _got_ to stop doing that,” he said. “Seriously, you need to go see a counselor for your anger management issues. For a little girl, you’re more savage than my aunt’s killer eagles. And that’s saying something.” 

“I am not a little girl!” Arya retorted, crossing her arms over her chest and giving him the stink eye. “I’m _sixteen!”_

“Ugh. Same thing. I can’t believe I got kidnapped by a sixteen-year-old girl.” 

“And I can’t believe I got stuck with you. Maybe I should just go ahead and kill you.” 

“Jesus, would you stop talking like that? It’s very disturbing coming from someone as young as you.” 

Arya rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Anyway, I’ll ask you again. Anything else I should know about? Like, I don’t know, maybe you have some sort of secret tracker implanted in your body or something? That kind of stuff? And don’t even think about lying. Trust me, I’d know.” 

“A kidnapper at sixteen and a human lie detector to boot? Wow, your parents certainly raised you well,” Aegon remarked dryly, but upon seeing the warning look on Arya’s face – the same look she wore a second before she almost broke his nose – he decided to play it safe this time. “No, I don’t have some sort of tracker implanted in me. But they can probably trace my phone.” 

“Good. Let them try.” Arya said, looked visibly relieved. Then, at the questioning look Aegon gave her, she replied, “I took care of your phone yesterday. It’s probably buried in a ditch somewhere.” 

“God, I hate you.” 

“Believe me, the feeling’s mutual.”

 

 

* * *

  

On the fourth day of Aegon’s captivity, Arya felt ready to give up. Thankfully, she, Gendry, and a traitorous Hot Pie who, by the way, had elected to leave for summer fat camp rather than deal with the sticky situation they got themselves in (she still hadn’t forgiven him for that, dammit), were still in one piece, free from the suspicious eyes of the police. But that wasn’t the reason Arya was feeling so agitated. Her problem was Aegon himself. He was just so… so _annoying._ She didn’t know if he genuinely had the personality of a buzzing wasp or if he was simply acting this way on purpose just to annoy her, but Arya was afraid that if she had to spend one more minute with him, she might end up strangling him. 

“Gendry, I’m telling you. I am this close to killing him,” Arya complained loudly on the phone. “It’s like he was born on this Earth just for the express purpose of driving me crazy. Every time I go down there he keeps on asking me all sorts of stupid things. Like, ‘Are you sure you’re not secretly in love with me?’ or ‘Do you think I’d look good with blue hair?’ And he complains about everything! I had to cook him dinner last night, because Osha took a day-off _again_ , and he just looked at me with this pained expression on his face and said even a stray dog wouldn’t be caught dead eating his dinner. I mean, what the hell, right?” 

Gendry cleared his throat and tried hard not to laugh. “To be fair, Arya, he’s right about the food. You’re the kind of cook that Gordon Ramsey would have nightmares about. Remember the weasel soup you served your father’s guests last year?” 

Arya wished she could punch Gendry over the phone. “Why do you guys keep calling it weasel soup? It’s not even made of real weasel. And I’ll have you know, the dinner wasn’t such a complete disaster!” 

“Oh, yes. I’m sure.” 

“Anyway,” Arya chattered on, desperate to change the subject. “I’m begging you, you have to take Aegon away from here before I finally snap and kill him. You can hide him in your toolshed and no one would be the wiser.” 

“Uh, let me get this straight,” Gendry said. “You want _me_ to hide him _here_ , in the same house where Joffrey and my evil stepmother lives? In what universe do you think this is going to work?” 

Arya exhaled loudly. “Right. Good point. Forget I asked then.”

 

 

* * *

  

“Would you hurry up? I don’t have all day to babysit you!” Arya yelled as she stood with her back to the door of the bathroom, arms crossed and an impatient scowl on her face. She could hear the shower running, and even though there were no windows inside, she couldn’t help but feel paranoid that somehow Aegon would find a way to escape. 

“Well, you should have thought of that before kidnapping me!” was her captive’s snarky reply. 

“Don’t make me come in there and confiscate your shampoo.” 

“Oh, god. Not the shampoo! Anything but the shampoo. Okay, I promise, I’ll be done in a minute!” 

But a minute passed by, then five, and Aegon had yet to come out of the bathroom. Arya was beginning to wonder if now was the right time to panic. 

“Aegon?” 

No answer. 

“Aegon, you stupid prick, answer me!”

Still no answer. Arya gritted her teeth, muttered a curse under her breath, and opened the door. But instead of an empty room, she was greeted with the sight of a wet, half-naked Aegon. Tiny beads of water were dripping down his chest in a way that was practically bordering on pornographic, and all that separated him from the line of full-frontal nudity was a towel wrapped precariously around his waist. 

Arya was no stranger to half-naked guys, having grown up in a house with two elder brothers – well, three, if she counted Theon, which she did – and male friends who were used to stripping off their shirts in her presence. Hell, she’d even gotten used to the sight of Gendry’s well-muscled, grease-covered body as he tinkered around in his father’s garage; so really, she should’ve been immune to this kind of display by now. But she couldn’t, for the life of her, tear her gaze away from Aegon’s torso. He was less muscular than Gendry, but Arya could tell that he worked out. And those shoulders of his… My, he had such nice shoulders. 

Any other girl would have averted their eyes in embarrassment at having walked in on something private, but Arya being, well, Arya, just went on ogling him with the same fascination she usually reserved for new martial arts techniques and feral Siberian Husky puppies. In fact, she would have been quite content staring at him for hours if Aegon hadn’t cleared his throat.

He smirked at her, looking thoroughly amused that he’d managed to stop the unflappable Arya Stark in her tracks, and said gleefully, “Wanna take my picture? It’ll last longer.” 

The moment Aegon opened his big mouth, Arya snapped out of her daze and remembered who exactly she was dealing with here. “Don’t flatter yourself!” she shrilled as she slammed the door closed, her face turning an unusual shade of red. 

That night, against her will, she dreamed of Aegon Targaryen and his toned abs.

 

 

* * *

  

“Arya, just the lady I was thinking of! What brings you to my humble prison? Come to finally declare your undying love for me? Oh, hey, is that ice cream?”

She ignored Aegon, plunked herself beside him on the couch, and allowed him to wrestle the large tub of ice cream from her hands. Arya had long ago released him from his bonds, much to Gendry’s disapproval, and had given him access to roam freely within the basement, provided that he didn’t pound on the door loud enough to bring the entire Stark family down on him. 

So far, for reasons Arya herself could not comprehend, he’d stayed true to his word, and had instead spent the rest of his days playing Grand Theft Auto and watching _The Real Housewives of Westeros_ on TV _,_ only occasionally taking time out of his busy schedule to harass Arya. But still, it was a rather remarkable improvement from the annoying Aegon she had met several days ago, and as a result, Arya had taken to punching him only twice a day now. No doubt it had something to do with her decision to untie him. Or maybe the man was finally growing on her. Arya shuddered to think of that. 

“So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong or will you just continue to stare off into space like that?” 

Arya hit him with her spoon and grabbed the tub of ice cream from him. “Nothing’s wrong,” she grumbled angrily before digging in and shoving a large chunk of chocolate chip ice cream into her mouth. 

“Uh-huh. So you’re just camping out here with a huge tub of ice cream, chilling with the person you kidnapped, because you’re suddenly in the mood for it?” 

Arya hated his logic sometimes. She drew her knees to her chest and tried to muster enough energy to glare at Aegon, but she couldn’t find it in her to be mad at him today. Besides, she’d probably used up an entire lifetime’s worth of glares in the past few days alone. “I’m hiding from my parents,” she finally admitted out loud. 

“Why?”

“Dad promised to take me to the shooting range today but he had to bail because his stupid, drunkard of a business partner screwed things up at work again,” Arya said, the words bitter in her mouth. She was sixteen now and she was supposed to be more mature than this, but the familiar resentment at being let down by her parents still stung. 

“Why am I not surprised that you like to shoot things in your spare time?” 

“Shut up. That’s besides the point.” 

“True.” Aegon smiled softly at her. “I know what it feels like to be neglected, you know, and I’m not going to lie to you, the feeling won’t get better as you grow older, but in your case...well, I don’t think you actually realize how lucky you are.” 

“What do _you_ know about shitty parents?” Arya asked him dubiously. 

“My dad is a senator, remember?” Aegon reminded her, and for once, his blue-violet eyes were serious. “He probably knows more about the general public than he does about me. At least your dad actually cares enough to make plans with you.” 

Arya frowned. “Your father has the entire police task force searching for you, and there’s a hundred thousand dollar reward for anyone who can point you to them. How is that not caring?”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t love me,” Aegon said with a shrug. “But he’s just too busy with his job that sometimes it’s a little hard for me to remember that he still cares.” 

“What about your mother?” 

“She died when I was a baby. Cancer.” 

“Oh.” 

Against her will, Arya found herself feeling sorry for him. No wonder he acted like such an attention-seeking, spoiled brat most of the time. It’s because he grew up without a mother. 

“Great. Now you’ve made it difficult for me to hate you,” she complained. “Here. You can have the rest of this.” She gruffly shoved the tub of ice cream towards him and tried her best not to return the happy smile Aegon sent her way. 

“You’re alright, Arya Stark. You’re alright.” 

“Don’t get used to this. Tomorrow I’ll probably be back to beating the crap out of you.” 

Aegon just laughed at her. And after a while, Arya found herself laughing along with him.

 

 

* * *

 

One morning, she came home from her daily run around the neighborhood and found a familiar man standing on the front porch, waiting for her. 

“ _Jon?”_  

“Hi, little sister.” 

“Oh my god, Jon! It is you!” Arya screeched and immediately launched herself into his arms. She was pretty sure she was crushing his ribs with the way she was hugging him, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t seen her favorite brother in months, and to actually have him here with her was like an early birthday present. She breathed in her brother’s familiar scent and for the first time in a long while, she felt herself beginning to relax. 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be here until next month,” Arya murmured as she hugged him tighter. 

Jon laughed and mussed up her hair. “Sansa called me and convinced me to come home early,” he told her. “She says she’s worried about you because you’ve been spending all your time holed up in the basement these days. So, care to tell me what sort of mischief you've been up to lately?” 

“Nothing,” Arya lied, burying her face further in Jon’s chest so he wouldn’t be able to see the guilty expression on her face. “I’ve been behaving myself, just like I promised you the last time we talked.” 

Jon “hmm-ed” and looked at Arya endearingly, letting her know that he didn’t believe a single word of what she just said. Arya wasn’t surprised. Jon was the only person in the entire world who knew her inside and out. 

“Now, what are you not telling me, little sister?” Jon asked her, cupping her cheeks with his hands and giving her the full force of his stare.

Arya squirmed uncomfortably. She was powerless when it came to Jon. With him staying here for the summer, it was only a matter of time before he found out about the whole situation with Aegon. “I… err… well…” 

“Come on, Arya. You know you can tell me anything.” 

Arya bit her lip and sighed. “Promise you won’t get mad?” she said, giving him the puppy dog-eyed look she knew Jon would not be able to resist. 

“Of course. You’re my favorite sister.” 

“Well..." Arya took a deep breath before finally saying, “There’s a man locked in our basement and I may or may not have kidnapped him.”

 

 

* * *

 

The look on Jon’s face when he saw Aegon was nothing short of epic. Arya was tempted to take a picture and send it to Gendry, but given the fact that she was already on thin ice with Jon, she decided it wouldn’t do to risk angering him further. 

“Oh, a visitor!” Aegon exclaimed upon their arrival. He cocked his head and stared curiously at Jon, as though he was a child looking at the main attraction at a carnival. “This is the first time you’ve brought someone here other than that grumpy-looking friend of yours. Who is he? Is he your twin, Arya? He looks so much like you, it’s kinda creepy.” 

Jon did a double take. “Wait a minute. Are those my boxers?” he said in a horrified voice. “Arya, why is he wearing my boxers?”

“Yeah, why am I wearing his boxers?” Aegon chimed in unhelpfully. 

Arya glared at him before turning her attention back to her brother. “What else was I supposed to do? It’s not like I can just stuff him in one of Sansa’s dresses and be done with it.” 

Jon did not look appeased. “Arya, what is going on here?” 

So Arya told him everything, from the first time she saw Sansa’s bruise up to the point when Hot Pie mistakenly kidnapped Aegon. But she was careful not to say anything about her growing interactions with her prisoner, not to mention that unfortunate shower incident a couple of days ago. No need to give Jon more reasons to tell her parents about the whole Targaryen fiasco. 

When she was done speaking, Jon sighed and ran a hand through his hair in that tired way her father often did whenever he was dealing with a particularly difficult problem at work. “You should have called me the moment you realized he wasn’t Viserys,” he finally said to Arya after an intense moment of silence. “Better yet, you should have called me the minute Sansa told you everything. We could have taken care of this together.” 

Arya leaned her head on Jon’s shoulder, looking like the very picture of a repentant child. “I know. I’m sorry, Jon,” she whispered in what she hoped was her best angelic voice. “But you promised you wouldn’t be mad, remember?”

“There’s no way I can stay mad at you, even if you deserve to be scolded for this,” Jon said, shaking his head in resignation. “But you know we have to deal with this, right? You can’t hide him in the basement forever. We have to let him go.” 

That got Aegon’s attention. “Let me go?” he repeated, saying the words slowly as though he couldn’t quite believe he’d heard it right. “You know… I’m not so sure I want to leave this place, after all.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Arya did not bother trying to hide her surprise. 

Aegon shrugged. “I’m starting to like it here,” he told them. “No one’s bothering me about public appearances and politics and all that shit. Jon Connington isn’t here to lecture me and tell my father what a complete failure I am, and I don’t even have to go to work. I can just stay here all day, playing video games and watching TV. I’m quite content trading my bodyguards for a hot chick, you know.” 

“Did you just call my sister a hot chick?” Jon exclaimed, looking enraged. “That’s it. I’m getting you out of here.”

 

 

* * *

 

“Dude, are you sure this is a good idea?” Gendry asked Jon. 

Once again, he was in the driver’s seat, with Jon riding shotgun and Arya unhappily crammed in the backseat, but this time they weren’t using Robert Baratheon’s trusty Jaguar to kidnap unsuspecting Targaryen family members for the second time that month. No, this time they were gathered here for a different kind of mission. 

“Gendry, this is Jon we’re talking about,” Arya scolded him. “If Jon tells us it’s a good idea, it’s a good idea.” 

“But…” Gendry was not so easily convinced. “There’s no guarantee he won’t tell anyone about us.”

He looked warily outside, where they had a perfect view of Aegon Targaryen’s familiar tall figure as he casually blended in with the late-afternoon crowd. His conspicuous silver-blond hair was carefully hidden, thanks to Robb’s old baseball cap, and he was sporting Arya’s favorite leather jacket, the one that was much too large for her and made her look like she was drowning in leather. He’d refused to leave without it, saying he wanted something to at least remember Arya by, and besides, it looked better on him that it did on Arya anyway. Arya had raged and screamed and thrown inanimate objects at him, unwilling to part with her favorite jacket, but in the end, she had relented. 

It was no easy feat convincing Aegon to leave the basement, after he’d taken it in his stupid head that he would rather spend his days as Arya’s captive than as a pampered senator’s son. But thirty minutes alone with Jon was all it took before he finally agreed to cooperate. Arya didn’t even need to ask Jon how he managed to convince him. After all, she knew her brother could be quite persuasive when he wanted to.

And now Aegon Targaryen was finally walking out of their lives, for once and for all. Arya convinced herself that the tight feeling in her gut was borne out of some residual fear that he would change his mind and blab to the police about their failed kidnapping attempt, and not because she was actually sad that he was leaving her. 

“He won’t tell on us, I promise you that,” Jon reassured Gendry with a faint smile. “I did threaten him a couple of times, but seeing as he fancies my sister, I sincerely doubt he’d say anything to the police.” 

“What?” 

“Jon, what are you even talking about?” Arya shook her head, wondering how Jon had arrived to such a terrible conclusion. 

“Arya, anyone with eyes can see that the poor guy actually likes you,” Jon informed her, looking equal parts annoyed at this unexpected development and equal parts amused that his little sister’s charm had extended to handsome men she’d kidnapped by accident. 

As if to prove Jon’s point further, Aegon, who by this point had already made it halfway across the street, stopped in the middle of his tracks and immediately turned back. 

“What is he doing?” Gendry swore in alarm as they all watched Aegon run towards them. 

“Hi,” Aegon panted when he reached their parked car, his face red and his chest heaving from the effort of running. “Sorry, I forgot something.” 

“What on earth could you possibly have forgotten?” Arya snapped at him as she rolled her car window open. 

Aegon poked his head inside and looked distractedly inside the car. “Do you have a pen?” he asked them. 

Jon frowned, unsure of what to make of his strange request, but handed him one anyway. Aegon took it, and in a move that would have made Arya’s martial arts instructor proud, he grabbed her by the shoulder before she had a chance to react and scribbled something on the inside of her arm. 

“There,” Aegon finally said as he handed the pen back to Jon and surveyed his work with immense satisfaction. 

“Explain yourself,” Arya hissed as she stared uncomprehendingly at the mess on her arm. 

“It’s my number. I forgot to give it to you. Call me, okay?” Aegon grinned at her and gave a cheerful little wave, and before Arya could even think to punch him on the face for his cheekiness, he was off. 

Arya blinked, mouth wide open. She met Jon’s face in the interior rear view mirror. He raised his eyebrows at her, as if to tell her, “I told you so.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

Exactly one week passed after Aegon Targaryen’s eventful departure from her basement. Life returned back to normal, or as normal as it could possibly get in the Stark household, and Arya looked none the worse for wear. 

On that particular day, she was walking home, having stopped by the nearby grocery store on her way from Gendry’s house, and was talking to Jon over the phone. “Sansa’s doing better,” she explained to her brother. “Willas Tyrell has been driving her home lately, and I think she actually likes him. Don’t worry, I had him checked. Considering Sansa's taste in men, though, I'm a bit surprised. He actually sounds like a decent human being. I doubt he’d turn into Viserys 2.0 anytime soon.” 

“Speaking of Viserys, we still need to do something about that bastard…” 

“Yes, but just the two of us, alright? You can’t tell Robb and the others. Sansa would freak. And I think it can wait until after you get back from Pyke. I still can’t believe you and Robb didn’t take me with you,” Arya whined. 

“It’s a bachelor’s party for Theon’s uncle, Arya. I doubt you’d want to attend,” Jon replied with a laugh. “But you know I didn’t call you because of that. Tell me, how are you?” 

“I’m fine. Honestly, Jon. You don’t need to check up on me every couple of hours.”

“Bran called me the other night and complained that you’ve been sulking in the basement for days now. Frankly, I share his concerns. I don’t think you’re fine,” Jon told her in a gentle voice. “Look, if this is about –”

Arya sighed and interrupted him before he could even say one word about Aegon. She refused to think about him, let alone say his name out loud. It was bad enough that she was having illicit dreams about that stupid blockhead. She didn’t want Jon getting the wrong idea too. “No, this is _not_ about him,” she interjected. 

Jon knew better than to argue with Arya when she was feeling defensive like this. So he relented and merely said, “Okay. We’ll just talk about this when I’m home. Be good, little sister, and stay out of trouble!” 

“Yes. Don’t worry, I will,” Arya promised him. “Don’t forget to buy me a present!” 

With her mood considerably lifted after her conversation with her brother, she then jammed her headphones on and continued on her walk home, humming tunelessly under her breath and nodding her head to the beat of the music. For this reason, she was completely unprepared when a black limo screeched to a stop beside her and she was grabbed forcefully from behind. 

Arya opened her mouth to scream, but a strong hand on her face muffled her surprised yells, and even as she kicked her unknown assailant with as much force as she could muster given the circumstances, it was already too late. She was thrown forcibly inside the car, and the moment her body hit the leather seats, the limo immediately sped off, bringing her chances of escape to an all-time low. 

Arya raised her head and met her attacker’s gaze. “ _You?”_ she screamed in fury as she saw Aegon Targaryen’s laughing purple eyes. She chucked her headphones at him. Then, unsatisfied with that, she threw the entire contents of her grocery bag at him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Stop the car at once!”

Aegon grinned at her, not showing the slightest bit of remorse at what he did. “Hello, Arya. I missed you too,” he greeted her, reaching his arms towards her as though he wanted to hug her. 

“You bastard!” Arya ducked out of his embrace and responded by punching him on the arm. Just like old times.

“Ouch,” Aegon winced, then thought twice about touching her. “Good to know you’re still as vicious as ever.” 

“Good to know you’re still as annoying as ever. Now answer me, what the fuck am I doing here?” 

“I’m kidnapping you, of course,” Aegon told her amicably, looking as though Christmas had just come early. 

Arya glowered at him. “Is this some kind of sick joke?” 

Aegon ignored her comment. “I got tired of waiting for you to call me,” he said simply. “Sorry it took me this long to find you. Jon and my dad wouldn’t let me out of their sight for days, afraid that I might disappear again. But this time I managed to sneak out before Jon could raise the alarm. Hey, why didn’t you call me?” 

Arya rolled her eyes at him. “I kidnapped you and kept you in my basement for weeks. Why would I be insane enough to call you?” 

Despite what she said though, she did come close to calling him. She had his phone number memorized a minute before she made an elaborate show to Jon and Gendry of erasing the marks he left on her arm and scrubbing her skin clean, all the while complaining about annoying captives and insane Targaryens. But she wasn’t entirely sure she was able to convince both of them. 

In fact, on her third day post-Aegon, she was in the basement, sitting next to the Aegon-shaped mark on the couch and sulking, as Bran so gamely called it, and before she even knew what she was doing, she had already dialed his phone number, her finger hovering tentatively on the “call” button. But luckily she was able to stop herself before she made a complete fool of herself. She was pretty sure there was a kidnapping manual somewhere with the rules “Thou shall not call your kidnapped victim days after you’ve successfully let him go” posted there in big black letters. 

But to be honest with herself, she’d grown rather fond of the miserable bastard, if only because she liked having someone close to her she could easily punch (or so she kept telling herself), and as the days went by, the urge to see him or hear his voice got stronger. Arya reckoned she must be suffering from some kind of reverse Stockholm syndrome – it was the only explanation that made sense to her – and figured that given enough time, those horrifying urges would soon pass. 

Besides, Jon was probably wrong about Aegon fancying her. Judging by the shameless way he kept flirting with her, he was probably a bit too much like Theon for her liking. Or maybe he was just doing it to rile her and make her complacent enough to have him released from captivity. But regardless of those things, she was pretty convinced that Aegon Targaryen did not like her. That was, of course, until he upped the stakes by kidnapping her and shoving her inside a limo. 

“It’s alright that you didn’t call. At least you’re here now.” Aegon looked at her fondly, like he was just waiting for Arya to tell him that she missed him. 

“Yes, no thanks to you,” Arya retorted, crossing her arms over her chest and contemplating the odds of her jumping off a moving vehicle and surviving. “Where are we going anyway?” 

Aegon smirked at her. “I’m taking you out on a date,” he boldly declared. 

“Are you out of your mind? What part of _I don’t like you_ do you not understand?”

“Oh, don’t be so quick to say no. You don’t even know what I have planned for you,” Aegon said, looking unconcerned at her unwillingness to cooperate. “See, I figured you were more of the action type, as opposed to the flowers-and-romantic-walks-on-the-park kind of girl. So before we proceed with our real date, we’re stopping somewhere else first.” 

Arya had no time for games. “Just fucking tell me where we’re going already!” she growled impatiently. 

Aegon leaned towards her, his lips close enough to brush her ear. “We’re paying a visit to Uncle Viserys,” he whispered softly. “And since this is our first date, I’m letting you decide what to do with him.” 

For the first time since she entered that blasted limo, Arya smiled at him.   

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was sitting on my desktop for like weeks now but I couldn't post it until today because I was having issues with my laptop.
> 
> I don't know what came over me when I wrote this XD I didn't mean to make it so long (and crazy) but it just kind of happened. Haha. Belated happy halloween? :)


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